


Service Is Its Own Reward

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics)
Genre: Extra Treat, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, ToT: Monster Mash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 04:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Droids take pleasure in serving their functions. Triple Zero has been programmed to perform a very specific function.





	Service Is Its Own Reward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akitania (spacehairdresser)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehairdresser/gifts).



Droids are not programmed to feel pleasure. Pain, yes, for some reason that only makes sense to early programmers whose own minds must not have been dissimilar to Triple Zero's. The closest a droid can come to experiencing joy is when its neural pathways align as it fulfills its primary function. Droids serve, and serving one's master brings peace, therefore the sight of one's master, when thought lost, regains that sense of balance. Translator droids are most fulfilled when skating the barrier between two languages. Astromech droids achieve tranquility when communicating with the ships and machines they service in the course of their duties.

Triple Zero serves his masters, and he performs his functions. Pleasure is not the correct term, but he experiences purity of thought as he discharges his duties by discharging electrical currents into his victims. Screams are the sounds of his effective work, and burbling groans the proof of his existence. His programmers wanted him to be the best at his job, and therefore they ensured he would only be at peace while performing his primary function. Between these tasks, his platinum nerves jangle with discord, and his subroutines stall, telling him he is not right, he is not serving his purpose, he is not of worth.

"Trip," says Doctor Aphra, pointing to their captive. "This guy says he's not going to talk to me." She smiles with a grim purpose of her own. "Prove him wrong."

Instantly, the electron flow in Triple Zero's brain shifts, as he assesses his target's weaknesses, physical health, and the pressure points of the target's species. A million calculations pass before Aphra blinks, and he is ready. Oh yes, he is ready.

He turns to the target, whose eyes grow large as he quivers where Aphra has tied him to his chair.

"My name is 0-0-0," Triple Zero tells him, eyes glowing in what his makers have allowed him of delight. "I am programmed in six million forms of torture. We will now go through the list one by one."


End file.
